


welcome him with open arms

by anotherenby



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Trans Character, Trans Floris | Fundy, Trans Male Character, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, im so sorry this turned out so much more venty than i expected, projecting go brrr, ventfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherenby/pseuds/anotherenby
Summary: fundy grows up realizing something is wrong.aka trans fundy hc ventfic
Comments: 28
Kudos: 261





	welcome him with open arms

**Author's Note:**

> aaaa dont ask why fundy and ranboo are best friends i saw it somewhere on ig and my brain went brrr  
> this turned out a lot more venty than i expected i am So Sorry
> 
> tw // gender dysphoria, internalized/external transphobia, slurs, mentioned drug use, mentioned blood, vomiting (kinda spoilers but) suicide attempt and hospitalization at end.

when fundy was five she refused to wear a dress. it was halloween and her father insisted on putting her in a cutesy little princess costume that all the other girls her age fawned over. she had kicked and sniffled and argued until he caved and let her out without it.

wil did not mind, he just wished she had told him before he had bought the dress. he also wished she had given more notice and he wasn’t trick-or-treating with a last second costume.

  
  
  


fundy was eight when ranboo, and his older sister niki, moved in next door. fundy and ranboo were the same age and were in the same class, and to no one’s surprise, became fast friends.

fundy loved spending time with the boy, whether it was biking down steep hills or sitting on a corner of the nearest convenience store. every evening when she would come home, her father would sigh about her messy hair pulled into a quick ponytail or her skirts drenched in mud (he would always disinfect her newest knee scrape or comb out her hair gently, though).

wilbur mentioned it as a joke first when he was brushing through her newest knot, fundy squirming underneath his grip (“gee, it would be so much easier if we just chopped off your hair, huh?”).

fundy adored the idea, and she bugged her dad for weeks.

her first haircut was very feminine, and made her look more like a tomboy than anything, but she was giddy with joy and showed off her short ginger hair to as many people who would give her the attention.

wil enjoyed seeing his daughter happy, so he never pried about her growing it out.

  
  
  


when fundy was nine, she convinced herself she had a crush on ranboo. other girls in her class whispered about boys, many envious about her being close friends with one. she never thought about liking boys before, but she assumed that because she enjoyed ranboo’s company and loved to spend time with him, then surely she must like him (right?).

(fundy chose to ignore when she would find her attention lingering a second too long on the girl sitting in front of her, or the way she quickly averted her eyes if she saw a semi-nude photo of women).

  
  
  


fundy was ten when she discovered the euphoria of oversized hoodies and baggy pants. the hoodies hid her hips (they stuck out too much in her opinion, not in the graceful way the other girls had) and the pants hid her thighs (she reasoned that it was because they were too wide).

she had dumped a pile of haphazardly folded skirts into wil’s lap.

“dad, i need new clothes.”

“why?”   
  
“the other girls in class don’t wear skirts anymore. they’re too childish.” (this was a lie).

that weekend, fundy had the joy of buying as many new clothes as she wanted. she had made away with a couple pairs of thrifted trousers, a couple new shirts, and the largest hoodie you could see a little girl wear. the sleeves went way beyond her wrists and the end of the hoodie reached just above her knees. when wilbur had tried to get her something that was more her size, she justified that she loved the sweater too much to outgrow it.

it became a quick habit for fundy to fall asleep wearing this hoodie and a pair of shorts.

  
  
  


when fundy was eleven, she started to hate ranboo. he towered above her now and had a voice that still squeaked with his childhood, but was still deeper than her own. she felt like he was betraying her, leaving her behind in what was soon to be a race in puberty. she knew that what she was feeling was wrong, and that ranboo was not to be blamed, but the twinge of jealousy that lay beneath layers and layers of anger remained.

  
  
  


(when fundy was eleven and a half, she snapped, leaving behind a rather confused and lost ranboo).

  
  
  


fundy was thirteen when she met eret. fundy now hung out with a group of girls that she considered more her style. she rejected her tomboyish childhood and relished in the idea of acting as feminine and flamboyant as possible.

(she still spent every night sleeping in her prized hoodie).

(she still hated the way her body looked in a skirt).

eret was one of the girls’ older cousin, and they held themselves with such a high authority that they entranced anyone who came across them. 

fundy was confused at first. how could someone be born a they? did that mean eret didn’t have anything  _ down there _ ? but that didn’t make sense, because eret was a boy, right?

(“god, he’s so weird right?”)

(“oh i’m so sorry you’re related to him!”)

(“i would certainly just die if i was related to a  _ tranny _ .”)

fundy never said anything to her friend group. but eret remained in her head.

she spent sleepless nights researching it, and spent many more nights sitting in bed at ungodly times watching video after video about it.

she (he?) was more confused than ever. a part of him felt relieved to put a term to something he had felt for so long. he felt like he had finally just taken off a restraint that had been choking him for so long.  _ she _ never fit, but  _ he _ ,  _ he _ felt like home.

but something inside of him felt disgusted. he felt gross and like he was not normal. he felt like the opposite of normal, actually. he felt like something inside of him was not real, he felt like he was faking it, and a part of him felt like ripping out every single limb from his body to see what was really on the inside.

fundy kept this information to himself, preferring to be seen as a girl rather than  _ just another queer _ . besides it couldn’t get much worse, right?

(he was wrong).

  
  
  


fundy was fourteen when he dabbled in drugs for the first time. it started off small, just a joint being passed around when he was sleeping over at a friends house. unfortunately for him, those fleeting moments where he felt pure bliss clung to him. he liked the way his “self-medication” made him forget his double-life as a girl in public and a boy in private.

it didn’t take long for weed to be surpassed by psychedelics. they made him forget, they made him feel alive.

(he hated the serotonin drops afterward that left him wanting more).

(he hated feeling like he was never going to be happy again).

(fundy wanted to be normal).

  
  
  


when fundy was fifteen, he had a panic attack. he sat huddled in the farthest stall in the unisex bathroom. his silent sobs stifled by the cloth of his hoodie, and he tried his best to silence the hiccups and sniffles that threatened to erupt from him at any moment. he sat, trembling on the toilet.

today was a bad day. his hair was female, his baggy shirt was female, his arms were female, his pants her female, his shoes were female. hell, even his nose and smile were female. and to make matters worse, blood soaked through his jeans as he experienced his first menstrual cycle.

(he was a late bloomer, luckily).

(he hoped to stave off this moment for as long as possible).

the door opened, making fundy freeze. he had hoped that by choosing the farthest bathroom no one would bother him.

“hey, um, i know we haven’t talked much recently, but i saw you storm out of chem and i wanted to make sure you were okay?”

ranboo.

oh how fundy missed him.

fundy sobbed and spilled everything. everything except for the fact that he was a boy. ranboo lent his sweater to the young boy, and had called niki to help (god did fundy miss the two).

from that day forward, ranboo and fundy were conjoined at the hip again.

  
  
  


at sixteen, fundy was sleeping over at ranboo’s house. fundy wore interlaced sports bras, and wanted, oh-so-desperately, for ranboo to stop referring to him as “she.”

“ranboo, can i tell you something?”

“anything.”

“i’m trans.”

up until that point, fundy had told no one. he kept it to himself. he did not want to feel the judgement that came with coming out, even if it meant having to deal with the constant misgendering. it had been nearly five years since fundy had realised, and he had told no one. a part of him felt like he was lying, too, just a tiny voice in his head telling him he was faking it all for attention and that he would never be a real boy because he was just a girl putting on a disguise. he felt gross.

“i’m sorry, please. forget i said that, ranboo-”

“no, no, it’s completely fine, fundy! i’m actually very proud of you and i’m so happy you could tell me! wait, i’m sorry, do you want to go by a different name now? and what are your pronouns? just so i don’t get it wrong.”

everything had come crashing down then. ranboo didn’t cringe away from the teen. he didn’t kick him out, he did not curse at him. he simply looked at with wide eyes and the hint of a smile ghosting his lips.

fundy cried in front of someone for the first time in forever. someone knew. someone finally knew. and he didn’t leave him, contrary to every instinct that told him otherwise. ranboo made him feel accepted, and like he wasn’t something that was disgusting and needed to be locked up far away from civilization.

(later that week, ranboo gave fundy a very poorly wrapped present. inside was a binder. fundy choked back a sob in favor of giving ranboo the most bone-crushing hug he’s ever experienced).

  
  
  


fundy was seventeen when he woke up with a start in a hospital gown. he took a second to take in his surroundings, a very pristine and a very white hospital room, before promptly vomiting on himself.

the memories of the previous night caught up to him quickly: a dysphoric fundy who wanted nothing more than to tear his chest off.

( _ real boys don’t wear a binder. real boys don’t need to come out. real boys don’t hide their bodies. real boys don’t cry. real boys weren’t born a girl. real boys don’t need to change their pronouns. you are not a real boy. you are just a girl pretending _ ).

( _ pills. many, many pills. why did he take so many pills? _ )

a nurse appeared, speaking softly and soothingly. she helped him change out of his current gown (he realized with a grimace that his binder was no longer there) and helped clean off his face. he spent the whole time apologizing profusely, which she waved off calmly. she handed him a baggie to help him throw up what was definitely going to come up soon.

he sat in that bed, sniffling and wiping away tears, looking at the multiples wires that snaked away from his body. one linked to his arm, embedded in the crook of his arm and many more were attached to his chest. he just knew they were going to hurt if he tried to take them off.

“dear?”

“i’m sorry?”

“i asked if it’s okay if your dad can come in? it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with it, sweetie.”

“yes, of course, i wanna see my dad.” fundy’s speech was slightly slurred and his eyes drooped heavily. a throbbing headache seemed like it was going to split fundy’s head in two at any second. he ignored this and wiped a trail of snot that dribbled above his lip.

the nurse left and the minutes dragged. he was nervous, he was so very nervous. he did not know how wilbur would react. would he be angry? would he not care? would he be annoyed? or worse, would he be disappointed and disgusted with his son? (fundy didn’t know how he would cope if he dad found him disgusting).

when wilbur entered his room, the first things fundy noticed were his puffy eyes and red nose. he looked so disheveled, and fundy could not blame him. someone had to find fundy and he guessed it was his dad.

“i’m so sorry, fundy. i didn’t want to leave you but they made me wait outside. i promise i never meant to leave you. please, fundy, please.” wil choked on the last of his words. fundy felt the pressure build up behind his eyes.

“dad.” was all he could croak out.

the two met in a hug, the silence only broken by wilbur’s sobs and fundy’s sniffles.

“oh, sweetie, i’m so, so sorry. i’m so sorry i let you down.”

“dad, you never let me down.”

“i did something wrong for you to end up here.”

fundy couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. here his dad was, not knowing whether he was alive or dead for hours, blaming himself for what his son did. 

( _ failure. you shouldn’t have survived _ ).

“oh, no, please dad this was never your fault. i should have told you from the start. that’s my biggest regret.”

fundy pulled out of the hug, rather reluctantly, to look at his dad in the eyes.

  
  
“dad.” he paused ( _ he won’t accept you. you’re disgusting. you’re faking it. you’ll never- _ ). “i’m trans. i want to go by he/him pronouns now.”

“oh, fundy, my son, my champion. i will love you forever and ever and i will never let you get this low ever again.”

despite it all, despite the thoughts that still plagued his mind, fundy smiled. he was happy and he was accepted.

(when fundy was seventeen, he was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and gender dysphoria).

(when fundy got out of the hospital, a new binder sat on his bed since his old one was lost in the chaos).

(when fundy was eighteen, he started testosterone).

(when fundy was twenty, he woke up in a hospital again, but this time to the smiling faces of his dad and ranboo as they congratulated him on making it through his top surgery).

(fundy was safe).

(fundy was finally at home).

**Author's Note:**

> aaa just want to point out that im in no way glorifying drugs. shit sucks. dont do it. pls dont.


End file.
